


hands on me

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grace Sharing, Kissing, M/M, No Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: Sometime between midnight and one in the morning, the power goes out at the Rio Grande Motel and all across Alamosa, spurred by a lightning strike and followed by prolonged thunder, rattling the foundation and everything atop it. Right now, Castiel can’t bring himself to care that he can’t hear the air conditioner, nor can he hear the mini-fridge shaking itself to life every few minutes. No, all he hears is Dean’s soft breaths against his neck and his own gasps. Rustling fabric, soft patters of rain against the second-story window.





	hands on me

Sometime between midnight and one in the morning, the power goes out at the Rio Grande Motel and all across Alamosa, spurred by a lightning strike and followed by prolonged thunder, rattling the foundation and everything atop it. Right now, Castiel can’t bring himself to care that he can’t hear the air conditioner, nor can he hear the mini-fridge shaking itself to life every few minutes. No, all he hears is Dean’s soft breaths against his neck and his own gasps. Rustling fabric, soft patters of rain against the second-story window.

Dean whispers his name with soft lips, tracing the purpled bruises he’s left along Castiel’s bare throat. “Not naked enough,” he comments, much to Castiel’s delayed amusement. Dean could say the same for himself, if he weren’t already nude from the waist up, his shirt tossed to the side in a fit of passion. Previously nimble fingers shake as they shove off Castiel’s coat and jacket, then take aim at his dress shirt, where they begin to fumble.

Gently, Castiel pries him away and leans in for another kiss, this one even more heated, teeth and tongue and every one of Castiel’s basest desires embodied. Still, that doesn’t stop Dean from trying, his attempt at suave and composed ending up on the floor along with Castiel’s buttons. Impatience does have its virtues, Castiel considers. Even more so in the dark, leaving them to touch and touch alone.

Lightning flashes again, and thunder rolls in behind, overshadowing Castiel’s sudden moan. Entirely, Dean surrounds him, hands cradling the back of Castiel’s head, a thigh shoved between his own. His skin warms with their renewed contact, chest to chest and closer than Castiel has been with anyone before, and closer to any human than he ever thought possible.

Dean kisses with all the finesse of a drowning man, seeking the salvation dripping from Castiel’s tongue, and Castiel returns it just as fervently, clawing at Dean’s hips and swallowing every pant, every minuscule noise. Every touch from Dean’s fingers only makes Castiel burn, running down his chest to his waistband, where Dean sinks to his knees, mouthing across the swell in Castiel’s slacks, previously unattended, but now demanding every bit of Castiel’s attention. His head falls back, hand landing in Dean’s hair, and he moans, breathless.

After that, though, Castiel’s heart stutters; cold steel presses against his chest, the tip of a blade he’s intimately familiar with, the blade his Father had given him at the dawn of his creation. Now, Dean wields it expertly, sucking kisses to Castiel’s chin. “I could kill you,” Dean muses.

Castiel just laughs. “You wouldn’t,” he says, watching the lightning flash in Dean’s eyes. Green. “You need me.”

“Got that right,” Dean huffs. Another kiss, and Castiel leans in, momentarily forgetting the sting of the blade, until Dean cuts into him, just barely.

A sliver of white pours free, illuminating the scant space between them. Curiously, Dean watches it as it drifts, lips parted just enough for it to slip inside, disappearing into his mouth. Impossibly, Castiel’s skin burns hotter just from watching, from the realization. His Grace—Dean willingly accepted his Grace, whether he knew what he was doing or not.

Something crosses Dean’s eyes, though, evident in the lightning flash and the flickering lights. Understanding— _want_. What happens next, Castiel can only describe as ecstasy, his heartbeat loud enough to pound in his ears when Dean shoves him against the wall and cuts a shallow incision along Castiel’s pulse point. Grace pours forth and into Dean’s waiting mouth, where he inhales and shudders in Castiel’s grasp, eyelids fluttering.

Being consumed feels better than Castiel ever expected, especially like this. Like he’s being adored in this ritual, where Dean is taking communion and Castiel is the body and blood. Dean kisses the wound clean once he’s done, and only from the Grace flowing through Dean’s veins does Castiel’s skin close, pristine and fresh as ever.

Dean inhales; Castiel gasps, clawing at whatever skin he can find. “This won’t affect you,” Castiel manages. Dean shoves his thigh between Castiel’s legs again, and Castiel’s eyes roll back, the sensation almost too much to bear. “Devouring Grace—it won’t heal anything, not like this.”

“Don’t want it for me,” Dean rumbles, grazing Castiel’s Adam’s apple. He doesn’t speak until he’s sucked the Grace free from Castiel’s throat, licking the wound clean. All the while, Castiel moans and ruts down onto Dean’s thigh, shame heating his cheeks. “You like it,” Dean finishes. “ _Really_ like it.”

“It’s blasphemy,” Castiel says, aiming for serious but falling flat. Dean ignores him and cuts him again, drawing forth another moan. “Swallowing an Angel’s—”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss, Grace lingering on his tongue—Castiel chases it, clasping his hands behind Dean’s head and drawing him in, tasting him, completely. “Never thought Angels could get kinky like this,” Dean pants when they part, the blade abandoned on the floor. “Does it turn you on, watching me?”

With one hand, Castiel clutches Dean’s neck, sliding up to cradle his chin, and this time, it’s Dean’s turn to gasp in time with the storm. “Any more, and I can’t be held accountable for my actions, Dean.”

Smugly, Dean purrs and grabs hold of Castiel’s hip, smirking all the while. “Like it when you talk dirty to me. Say my name again.”

Castiel doesn’t. He shoves Dean back towards the mattress instead, forcing him down into the bedding and crawling over his prone body. Chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen, face flushed—Castiel could have this all night. Will have this, if he has anything to do with it. “If you want my Grace so bad,” and Castiel leans in, whispering directly into Dean’s ear, just to feel him shiver, “then there are other ways you can swallow me, as well.”

Violently, Dean shivers and claws at Castiel’s shoulders until Castiel surges forward, until Castiel kisses him senseless. “Please,” Dean begs into the sweaty curve of Castiel’s neck. “Please, I need it…”

“I know,” Castiel coos. He places his palm square in the middle of Dean’s chest, letting it smooth down to the trail of hair beneath his navel. They have all night, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, the latest episode inspired me? And everyone on twitter enabled me? Not my fault! Also depending on feedback, I may do a second part, but right now I might just leave it as standalone. What do y'all think?
> 
> Title is from the Darius Rucker song.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
